


No offense, None taken

by Miki_and_company



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Dave POV, Domestic, Fluff, French canadian karkat, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Montreal, Other, Pining, Second person POV, Sexual Tension, Trans Dave, Trans Karkat, and they were ROOMMATES, apparently he finds that attractive, because reasons, go figure, legal drinking, might bump up the rating later, overly graphic description of urban environment, reasons is my boyfriend told me, t4t, trans davekat, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 19:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20644691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miki_and_company/pseuds/Miki_and_company
Summary: Dave had been living for a year in the residence of his uni in the birth town of his best friend Karkat, Montreal, but now they're moving in together. The whole ordeal is super gay, summer hot and filled with an alternance of good Bro times, Feels, and an uncanny authorial horniness for a specific urban landscape.The themes of this story shall be "Love is good and should make you change for the better", "Montreal is a really cool city", and "You should wear a helmet when biking", but feel free to find more.





	No offense, None taken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sadsymphonys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadsymphonys/gifts).

> AN: this fic is NOT sponsored by the city of Montreal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, I changed this a bunch and basically am reposting the first three chapter into two new ones, i hope ya'll don't mind too much

July 1rst was by far the most expensive day to hire a moving truck in Montreal. Luckily, you managed to do just fine without one. As college students, you only needed a couple of rides of minivan to gather all the stuff, old and new, which was about to furnish the 3 ½ that would be yours and Karkat’s new home for the next few years. It was exciting.

Despite everything, there was still a surprisingly large number of things to move and unpack, more than you expected. You had come to Montreal two years ago with a single slightly overstuffed suitcase and a similarly overstuffed carry-on duffle bag, but even ignoring all the things you bought or gathered specifically for the apartment, you had a solid half dozen of boxes with just your stuff, plus the aforementioned suitcase. Slippers, bath towels, the cheapest kettle and toaster you could find, fairy lights, sheets and blankets, textbooks, dollar-store cutlery, Tupperware; all reasonable expenses, but which, without you even noticing, accumulated in your dorm room so steadily that it nearly tripled the volume of your initial belongings. 

You could bet that this new apartment would make things even worse. Already, you had to splurge a good chunk of your savings from last summer on second-hand and Ikea furniture that you then had to carry up two flights of a precarious twisty deathtrap staircase.

The apartment wasn’t perfect, but it was still a really good deal. It was on the third floor, somewhat cramped, overlooking a street just busy enough to make it slightly annoying, with no parking space. It wasn’t technically two-bedrooms, but the living room was closed off enough to function as one. There was a lot of light, with only the bathroom having no window. There was no dishwasher or washing machine, or space for them, which probably helped a lot with driving down the price of this otherwise beautiful place in a really pretty neighborhood.

You have to admit that you just kind of fell in love with it already. Which is a weird thing. You’ve never really loved any place where you’ve lived.

The day was hot—not hotter than Houston, but it didn’t really feel like you could compare that easily. It was *different*, something about the humidity, or the quaking of the aspens lining the street which would, like chimes, celebrate each and every refreshing breeze come your way.

Summer in Montreal built up slowly at first, then all at once. The city bloomed like a single flower, its people like pollen: suddenly everywhere and making Karkat complain a lot.

By 7pm, you had gotten everything into the right rooms, and you were pretty tired. Karkat’s father had gone back home with his van, and you had just ordered some pizza.

A wind gust waltzed on the street the soft shadows of the trees and dried ever so slightly the sweaty strands of hair on your brow. Slowly, but noticeably, the roasting heat of the day was fading away, eased by a fresh breeze that was going to make the evening most pleasant.

The sun still hung high in the sky, no more dimmed than a dentist’s cabinet spotlight, but you were tired, leaning on the cast-iron banister of your new balcony, basking idly in the activity below. Bikes swooshing by, riders adorned with colorful helmets, and sometimes carrying baby seats—cars, making their way slowly, desperately looking for some place where they could pull a tight parallel that would make a suburbanite break into a cold sweat. The bistro-bar on the street corner, progressively filling up with patrons who would probably talk and drink until night was pitch black.

You got a little tired of waiting for the pizza like this, so you walked back inside, and made your way through the creaky hallway and into the kitchen, where Karkat was raging over the assembling of the kitchen table. “AArrrrrggghh! Tabarnak! Maudite patente! This thing is impossible to screw!!! Allen wrenches can go screw themselves a new hole,” he said.

“Dude, chill, we have all the time we need to set ourselves up. Take a break.”

“You’ve been on break ever since we stopped for dinner and dad left.”

“Yeah, honestly, I think I’m done for the day.”

You walked to the cooler on the other side of the room and took out a beer can.

“want one?” you asked.

Karkat sighed deeply, but after a short pause stuck out his hand.

You handed him a can, his fingers leaving a print where they disturbed the condensation on the tin. Karkat nodded a soft thanks and cracked the can open, only to have it overflow and spill everywhere on his cargo shorts and t-shirt. He jumped on his feet with a string of colorful and linguistically diverse curses, while you laughed at your best friend’s misfortune.

“Just, fuck you,” Karkat shot in your direction.

“Hey, I didn’t do anything!”

“You laughed.”

“Okay, fair.”

Karkat rolled his eyes, and pulled at his own shirt, frustrated.

“Great, now I’m gonna have to find and search the boxes with my clothes in them.”

“Or you could just take them off” you joked.

“you wish,” Karkat said, already heading towards his room.

“I can take mine off too.”

“Keep it in your pants, Dave.”

“What’s stopping us? Neither of us even has tits. We’re just bros, chillin in an apartment cause they’re roommates. Cracking a cold one.”

Beer-soaked Karkat shot you one of those stares like he was going to make you sleep outside and you laughed.

“I swear to every fucking god out there, I don’t know why we’re even friends,” he said, heading for his room.

You followed him there awkwardly.

“Hey, did I actually make you uncomfortable with that?” you said as Karkat was rummaging through the boxes in his room.

He stopped in his tracks.

“What?”

“Like, I was just trying to do this thing where I was being confident in my sexuality and unafraid of my intents towards you coming across as more than platonic cause like, you’re my bro right? And are we even really bros if it’s not at least a little homoerotic? Like, we’re roommates, for God’s sake, that’s pretty gay, but also like, I just realized that the fact I’m joking is no excuse to be a gross pervert, y’know? I don’t know what the boundaries are, and like, of course I’m not forcing you to be topless, I’m just saying, it would be fine by me, yknow.”

“Dave. If I’m ever made uncomfortable by your mindless ramblings, trust me, you will be aware of it. I know you’re just joking. Besides, we’ve already established it like ten times that I don’t mind it.”

You nodded perhaps a bit too much.

“Okay, cool, cool, then, nevermind, that’s good. That’s great. I love you man.”

“Honestly, I’m about two quips away from starting a charity to get you laid despite your chronic hopelessness when it comes to social cues.”

You laughed.

“Listen, I’m just making sure dude. You’re never too careful when it comes to sexual harassment. Even with you.”

“if you say so, I guess,” Karkat said absentmindedly while finally retrieving his towel and shower kit from one of the many boxes simply labelled “KARKAT-ROOM”.

“You’re taking a shower?”

“I’m sweaty and sticky and I smell like beer.”

“God damn, I didn’t know T made you smell like beer too. Modern science is a miracle.”

Karkat scowled, but his eyes betrayed that he had actually found that one quite funny before disappearing in the bathroom.

The sound of the shower running really tempted you as you finished your beer, sweaty and stinky from the long, busy day. Your mind refused to shut up, though, about every little thing Karkat had done or said that day. You were trying to figure out your feelings, on whether or not you regretted this decision, or whether or not the whole affair could be leveraged as an opportunity to redefine your relationship.

So many years, you’ve spent getting to know each other online, and in the last two years, you had been in the same city. Now you lived together. It was slightly surreal. In a good way.

But there was something missing. There was something that you still yearned to get from Karkat, that tended to show up whenever you had strong heart-to-heart moments, or whenever you thought a little bit too long about the hypothetical scenarios of your bromantic banter. On some level, you knew what that meant, but boy, were you reluctant to actually admit it to yourself. Yet, you kept putting yourself in every possible agonizing situation which could fuel your pining, from moving in with Karkat to imagining him casually taking his shirt off. Sadly for you, despite his chest surgery a year ago, Karkat still wasn’t quite comfortable with that yet, and so you had only seen it once. In a snap. That you didn’t dare screenshot, even though it wasn’t even that suggestive, just kind of a matter-of-fact display of his newfound absence of breasts. Which even then was he kind of embarrassed about, because it was in Karkat’s nature to be completely and utterly ashamed of his body. Which really showcased how unfair and stupid this world was. Though you guess it was probably pretty standards amongst trans guys.

Somewhere along the way, you got used to your own masochistic tendencies, but every so often, it would just come back to you. Your leaded heart cowardly sinking into your guts, your disobedient mind pulling every thought towards his face and his voice, and your stupid libido adding his butt to that list. It was all extremely gay. And for some fucking reason, you had kept procrastinating actually dealing with any of that bullshit. Somewhere, you just didn’t believe you actually deserved whatever bliss could come from releasing that built up tension inside, and at this point, you didn’t believe you could even handle it.

You got shaken out of your reflections by the doorbell—pizza!

After Karkat got out of the shower, you sat together, butts on the peeling paint of the concrete balcony. You had the thought that it would be nice to have some outdoor chairs to relax there.

“So, what now?” Karkat asked once you had finished eating.

“huh?” you said, snapped out of your daydreaming.

“I just showered, so I don’t think I’ll do much more unpacking tonight. We’re not going to get our wi-fi set up before a couple of days, so I’m asking you, what now?”

“Well, I’m probably gonna get a shower too,” you sighed. “After that, I don’t know. Guess we’re gonna have to talk, or whatever they did before the internet.”

“I might swing by the depanneur to get some food for tomorrow morning.”

“I figured we’d just go to Tim Horton’s or something.”

“Fair enough. The fridge won’t be cold before tomorrow morning anyway.”

“I want coffee.”

“We’ll get coffee.”

“sweet.”

“…”

“…”

“Do you wanna like, go for a walk?”

“huh?”

“I mean, it’s still nice outside and I want to know this place better.”

“That’s fair.” Karkat shrugged. “I think parc Jarry is not too far.”

“dope. I love parcs. Hey, maybe we’ll get to see a dog!”

Karkat scoffed at the idea, even though you knew he’d be as happy as you to see a dog. Well, maybe not as happy. Possibly mostly startled, actually. Karkat was one of those people that animals liked a lot, even though he was quite uncomfortable with them. He would claim to not like them sometimes, but when it came to it, when he got accustomed to a particular pet, there was no amount of his grumpy façade which could hide his affections to the attentive bystander. You were absolutely convinced that Karkat would put his own life at risk to save Rose’s cat, even if he whined extensively every time Jasper’s sat on his lap. It never stopped him from petting the beast.

“Well, come on then,” you said, getting up and tugging him by the shirt. “Let’s do this shit. Let’s go see that fucking park. Wherever it is”

Karkat followed you downstairs, but took the lead once on the sidewalk, much more confident than you in the geography of the city.

You crossed paths with kids biking on the sidewalk, usually followed by a younger sibling running behind them and a parent half paying attention from afar, you passed full restaurant terraces buzzing in French, and one group of mixed aged men in front of a barber shop buzzing in Spanish. You saw cats, and teenagers with slushies and families with ice cream.

Although you had initially set off for a park, you hooked by the Jean-talon farmer’s market, mainly because you got curious about it, and Karkat followed you, half exasperated, half-amused.

Conversation topics were jolly but fleeting as you got easily distracted by everything. It wasn’t that anything was especially new, but it was like, a little new, and you were in a good mood, and it’s not like you had been to that many farmer’s markets in your life. Like, it wasn’t exactly the kind of activity your Bro did with you.

You did have fun pointing at various eggplants, comparing them to your (theoretical) dick until you got asked in French if you wanted anything, by which time Karkat had to apologize on your behalf (you suppose) and drag you away from that particular stand. You also had fun tasting various maple products you had no intention of buying, making surprisingly friendly banter with that clerk who spoke a pretty good English and was just kind of excited to show a purebred Texan all of the different shit you could do with sweet tree juice. You were excited to find out there was plenty of apple/maple syrup recipes that existed, proving that the two could mix well.

In the end, you kind of forgot about your plans to go hang out in the park, but like, whatever. The market closed at eight, and by that time the sun was barely starting to wane, but your exhaustion was catching up to you rapidly, and so you engaged your way back home.

Karkat led you through a different path than the one you had just taken, but the streets were a grid system, so it was not that complicated to figure out. Your discussions, which had so far been pretty inane, took a turn to the more practical; from meal plans and dishes duty to what if you were to have sexual partners in the apartment. A heads up was agreed upon, if only through endless mutual teasing about one another’s perfect fucking lack of game.

As you crossed the threshold of your new home, you had to ask Karkat,

“Hey, do you want to like, have a sleepover tonight? Like, I don’t know, to celebrate or whatever. I don’t know, it would just feel weird to sleep alone in a room full of boxes, so I can drag my mattress into your room or something, and then like, you know, we can keep chatting until we fall asleep. I feel like if there should be a perk to living together it should be that, no?”

\---

“I don’t know man, toxic masculinity is wild.”

You whispered those words in the dark as if there were some parents which had to be kept asleep, even if there was only two of you in the apartment, the walls of which were old and thick and could likely handle a casual tone of voice; but the hush added a sense of intimacy to words which were hard to speak out loud, outside the drunkenness of the late hours.

This place failed to feel quite like home yet. It was nice and all, but it still awaited to see you cry and laugh, to see you curl up on the bathroom floor at 3am afflicted with the stomach flu, to house friends and birthdays and you jerking off out of boredom. Only then you think you will truly be able to call it home.

This is a good start though. In the dark, late at night, sharing thoughts with the person you cared about most in the world.

“I know Dave, men are terrible, I don’t know why I like being one so much. Probably because I hate myself”

You chuckled.

“Didn’t you just say that men aren’t terrible, it’s just that masculinity imposes both intra and interpersonal limitations on them, which are bad?”

“Shut up.”

“Like, idk, if we were girls right now, we’d probably be both snuggling up in your bed rather than have me with my own mattress next to it?”

“You can still fucking do that if you want. Since we know better. I’m not going to make it weird.”

“I probably am though. Making it weird is just what I do.”

“Oh my God. Why do I even hang out with you? Fine, just stay where you are, I never said anything.”

You decide to climb into his bed. It just seemed like the appropriate moment.

“why hello there” you grinned mischeviously.

You could feel him rolls his eyes.

“Oh, now you don’t mind sharing a bed.”

“Why would I mind? I’m doing this for you, bro.”

“Are you? Isn’t there at least a small part of you doing this because you want it?”

Your eyes are pretty accustomed to the dark now, and so you see clearly how Karkat is staring at you. You’re not sure exactly what the tone of his voice was meant to imply, but you know it was a lot less casual than what you were expecting.

“Maybe. I guess part of me wishes we could just be comfortable casually cuddling and stuff.”

Karkat slid one arm above you and squeezed you briefly.

“How was that? Not too gay for you?”

“Dude, I’m pretty sure I could handle gayer than that. Like, if you’re trying to play gay chicken or whatever.”

“And if I wasn’t? What if I was being perfectly sincere?”

You forgot to answer that. Mostly because at that point, you got hit by a sudden wave of absolute nervous shutdown, your face under half a foot from Karkat’s, His tone and expression sending messages that you didn’t quite dare hope were being sent. You swallowed. He moved his hand to the side of your head, his thumb brushing your sideburns. They must’ve been burnt alright, if you were to entrust the heat of your face.

“Dave?” he asked softly.

You kissed his cheek.

There was a pause.

He kissed your cheek.

“Gdammit,” you muttered, not quite capable of handling the thumping of your heart.

Then you went for it. His lips, that is. There was nothing else to do, really, at this point. Both of your helpless idiocies had melted like ice in the sun, and in a moment of clarity you had faith that he felt the way you did and went for it.

The kiss was lovely, you think. It was your first, well, sort of. At nineteen, you were sort of embarrassed about it, but you knew it could be worse. There was a queerness to the feeling of lips against yours, and it took your brain a few seconds to process the new stimuli. To be fair, it was already busy with “Holy shit this is happening” alarms, blaring like they were warning you of an upcoming Nazi bombing.

Karkat was better at this than you, apparently. His rhythm was gentle, but confident, and as he bit your lower lip, the blood in your body flew south fast enough that you had to break the kiss so as to not pop a boner on the spot.

“Oh my god,” you said.

“Dave, do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“I’m afraid not dude. That was…holy shit.”

“I know.”

Rather than elaborate on that, he just kissed you again. You got lost in it sufficiently to not be able to ascertain whether this kiss lasted one minute or ten, but either way, it was a good time.

When Karkat broke it off, he excused himself to the bathroom.

When he came back, you both expressed how hard it would be to fall asleep right now, but he started spooning you and within 20 minutes you had dozed off.


End file.
